


gone

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616, New Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Steve Feels, hickmanvengers, more warnings in notes at the end, post NA#3, the mindwipe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve woke up with the absolute certainty he was missing something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NohaIjiachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NohaIjiachi/gifts).



> Thanks to [missbecky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky) for beta'ing :)
> 
> Spoilers for Hickmanvengers.
> 
> There are warnings at the end.

Steve woke up with the absolute certainty he was missing something.

He looked around, but everything was right. His shield was next to his bed. The curtains were pulled. There was a glass of water on his night stand. His mobile was dark, no alerts flashing at him.

He glanced at the clock. It was 4AM, but he knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep.

He stood up, stretched.

He looked around his apartment. Everything seemed to be all right –

There was a lone stray beam of light, coming in through a gap in the curtains, and it reflected on something gold.

Steve frowned, went to the object.

It looked like a helmet, or a robot's head from sci-fi stories. He lifted it carefully. It was lighter than it looked, and weirdly familiar, for all that he was sure he'd never seen it before.

There was writing on it.

_To Cap, I'm not sure which head is harder – yours or this one!_

_Shellhead._

Shellhead?

He didn't know . . .

He felt dizzy, suddenly.

_It was cold. So very cold. He didn't want to open his eyes, but he thought there was someone over him . . ._

_A weird, inhuman voice, a red and gold robot, and Steve felt inexplicably_ safe  _anyway._

He realized he was kneeling on the floor, his hands at his temples, and nothing was right, nothing, because this helmet – 

What it really said was, _a friend_ , except Steve didn't remember, it was impossible, what was going on . . .

He thought back to waking up in ice. He didn't do that often, but –

It was cold. He was alone. After a moment, there was a voice, an excited woman, and then a sceptical man.

It happened like this, Jan and Hank finding him on one of their science expeditions, no one else – and they were friendly, helpful, they were emphatic and understanding, and they didn't feel like home.

Steve shook his head.

He must have had a really weird dream. He should shake himself out of it.

He went on his morning run, and forced himself not to think of anything but his feet hitting the ground in a rhythmic matter.

The Baxter Building was towering over the city.

Everything was right, except it wasn't.

***

He was eating dinner when he saw a fight of the news, Spider-Man hopelessly overpowered trying to deal with Doombots.

Steve suited up in a minute, took his shield, and ran.

Not for the first time, he thought it would be nice to have a team, but none ever felt right. There was always something missing, no matter if he filled in on the Fantastic Four or tried to join the Defenders. It didn't feel right, even if he couldn't put his finger on it.

But a team  _would_ be nice. And a system to warn them about the danger . . .

_Dark haired man standing next to him, grinning as he explained his newest machine, the schematics up on a big screen._

_It sounded ideal, it sounded like an answer to all their problems, like the obvious conclusions to the years of one Avengers team after another, and –_

Avengers?

Jan proposed the idea, years ago, but it never really took off. They were good friends, but something was lacking in the team dynamics, something that couldn't be explained. Steve didn't want to be looked up  to by everyone, he wanted to be challenged, he wanted . . .

He raised his shield in the last moment to protect himself from an energy shot. Even as he was rolling away, he scolded himself: he knew better than to get distracted like that.

What the hell was going on with him today?

“Hiya, Cap!” Spider-Man shouted, swinging over him.

“This is not your usual villain!” Steve said.

“Well, all the big teams are on holidays, why did I never join one?”

“ _We have money,” the robot, not a robot Steve knew so well and couldn't remember his name said._

“ _Oh thank god!” Spider-Man exclaimed, clinging to him._

An energy beam hit Steve straight in the chest and he didn't remember anything else.

***

He woke up in the hospital, alone, and he wasn't sure who he expected to see there.

He checked out against the doctors' recommendations – he only had broken ribs, he'd had worse – and then stood in the street, looking around himself. The sun was setting.

_What was wrong_?

He called Sam.

“Hi,” Sam said. “Steve, you're up?”

“Checked out,” Steve said.

“Man, sorry, Red Wing called me.”

“It's all right. Look, Sam – did you notice anything weird?”

“Apart from _Doombots_ knocking you out?”

“Sam,” Steve sighed.

“No. Nope. Nothing different than usual. Why?”

“I don't know,” Steve said. “There's something – I don't know. Sorry.”

“Hey,” Sam sounded worried. “Sure you shouldn't stay in the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“I'll drop by you later.”

“See you.”

Steve ended the call. What was this feeling – 

it was the sunset, and  _the sky was red_ .

_Incursions, Reed Richards said._

_They were all in Wakanda, Reed, T'Challa, Hank, Stephen, Namor, Black Bolt, Steve –_

_The dark-haired man Steve knew so well, that he'd never seen in his life._

“Do it, Stephen, _” and Steve fell down._

He was on the pavement, people walking around him.

He knew he was all right, physically, he was pretty sure it wasn't mind control, but – 

_Do it, Stephen_.

Maybe he owed Strange a visit.

***

Steve always felt a bit, well, strange, visiting Sanctum Sanctorum.

_I hate magic, someone used to say again and again._

Steve shook his head and knocked.

Wong opened almost immediately. “Ah, Captain Rogers. Is there a problem?”

“I have to see Stephen,” Steve said. “Is he here?”

“Indeed, Captain,” Stephen said, coming into view. “What's the matter? You look disturbed.”

He  _felt_ disturbed.

“It's private,” he said.

“Yes, we won't discuss it in the door. Come in.”

Steve followed Stephen to the living room, not whatever passed for a sorcerer's lab.

“Tell me, Captain.”

_Did you do something to me_ wasn't a good conversation opener.

“I'm having – no. Do you have a piece of paper?”

Stephen raised his eyebrows, but he waved his hand, and a scroll and a pencil materialised in front of Steve. 

He focused on the dark haired man he remembered, and drawing him was easy, so very easy, he'd done it thousand times before, his hands, while working on a new invention, his eyes, bright and laughing, his lips – 

He broke the pencil in half, but the drawing was done.

“Captain?”

Steve showed him the drawing. “Do you know him?”

He observed Stephen really carefully, but there was no sign of recognition there. No lies.

“No,” Stephen said finally. “Why?”

“I've never met him. I remember him. I remember things that didn't happen –”

Stephen frowned. “Do you think it's a cosmic cube?”

“No,” Steve said. He knew how that felt. This, here, was different. And he only wanted to check if Stephen knew this man . . . 

“I can check you over for mind control,” Stephen offered.

Steve was about to leave, but he thought it might be a good idea. He nodded.

***

An hour later, Stephen nodded and said, “You're clear.”

Steve had suspected as much, and it didn't calm him down at all.

The visions – they felt like memories. Too much so. He'd prefer it to be some form of mind control, something he could stop, not whatever this was.

Because  _something_ was going on.  _Something_ was wrong, even if no one else noticed it.

He went home, and Sam was already in front of his door. He glared at Steve. “I told you I'd come by.”

“Sorry,” Steve said, feeling guilty. He should have called him, but he didn't have mind for anything apart from going to Strange. He let Sam in, gave him a coke, and then, almost on a whim, showed him the picture.

“Looks like Stark,” Sam said.

Hearing the name was like a blow to the head.

“Stark?” Steve repeated, proud of how his voice didn't shake.

_Call me Tony._

“I guess you missed him, lying in the Arctic. The Stane Industries founder? He died in a car accident, but he looked similar. Why, who is this?”

Steve didn't look at him as he shrugged. “I don't know.”

Blood was rushing in his ears.

_Stark Industries,_ he thought _. Repulsor tech. Iron Man._

_Shellhead._

“Steve? You look as if you saw a ghost,” Sam said.

“I'm fine,” Steve lied.

He had to sit down.

He had to think.

He didn't want to.

_Tony Stark_ , the name was clear in his mind, and it meant so much: home, love, betrayal, hate. It meant everything, and it was lost. 

***

At night, he dreamt.

There were people standing over him, people he considered friends and who hurt him so much.

One of them, especially.

_You used me_ , he said. 

And before that –

_I remember._

He woke up, and he remembered.

Everything had seemed wrong, because everything was, and _Tony wasn't here._

What the hell happened?

Why was Steve in a world without Tony?

Was he switched with some alternate him? But no, he had memories that would belong here.

What happened?

He didn't realise he was up before he punched the wall, again and again, until his knuckles were bloody and he wasn't any closer to getting any answers. He knew what he did in times like these, before Tony threw away everything they meant, what he still wanted to do: he went to Tony.

But Tony wasn't here.

And Tony wouldn't care anyway, would he, he used Steve, and Steve didn't matter to him at all.

He punched the wall again, and then slid to his knees. He was crying, he didn't know why.

( _Tony wasn't here_ , that's why)

***

Going about his life was difficult: he had two sets of memories, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to be in the world he  _belonged_ in, or if he really wanted not to meet Tony at all. Life would be so much easier, without him, without the constant betrayals –

Life would be colourless and dull and wrong, because he needed Tony, he needed someone who understood and challenged him, someone who was so much like him and so different Steve could scream. Someone who could hurt him just because he meant so much to Steve, someone who meant so much that Steve would take all the pain if it meant having him in his life.

_He missed Tony._

The Iron Man helmet was still on a table in his flat. Steve wasn't sure how it was possible, why everything disappeared and this one memento was left, but he was so very grateful for it. He missed Tony, yes. But he didn't want a life without him.

***

It was another red sunset, when he remembered.

50th century, or even later, the robot asking for identification, again and again –

_Captain America, the last identifying station said, all access granted._

_And then there was Tony, the Infinity Gauntlet on his hand. He was staring away – Steve had no idea where, there was nothing but them two there, and it had often felt like this, but it'd never was literally, not before now, and he looked like he was in pain, his clothes almost destroyed, bandages all over him._

“ _Steve,” he said, not looking at him._

“ _Stark,” Steve said._

_Tony didn't flinch._

_(It took him a long time to learn how not to do this, and Steve wasn't sure how he knew it, and there was regret and –_

_lo –_

_)_

“ _Fuck,” Tony said, pulling his gauntleted hand in a fist. “Fucking Mind Gem, just, for –”_

“ _I've had enough of you messing with my head,” Steve growled, “haven't you?”_

_Tony didn't finish the command that would become reality._

“ _I know everything,” he said._

“ _You've always thought that, what else is new,” Steve snapped._

_Tony laughed, unamused. “I do, now,” he said. “Or I can. I've no idea which time it is, though. Which time you're here. Which time I'll send you back home. How much else I'll fuck up us all to do it.”_

_Steve didn't know what he meant, and he was so angry, done with the secrets and lies and unfinished sentences, with the riddles, with everything._

“ _Start again,” he ordered._

_Tony turned to look at him. His eyes were almost glowing with the raw power he wielded. “Haven't you wondered,” he said, “how the incursions started?”_

“ _I've only known about them for a few hours,” Steve noticed, and he was amazed at how he didn't scream._

_Tony looked down for a moment. “Yes,” he whispered. “True.”_

“ _Why did you do it?” Steve asked against himself._

_Tony shook his head. “It's not important,” he said. “The incursions . . . Space and time are quite resilient, you see,” he said._

_Steve could see part of the word still written on Tony's shredded t-shirt._

“ _It takes much to upset the balance,” Tony continued. “But I'm so special, aren't I, Tony fucking Stark.” He looked straight at Steve then, his eyes decided in a way Steve knew to fear. “I think I know how to fix it,” he said._

“ _No,” Steve said, because whatever it was, it wasn't a good idea._

_Tony shrugged. “It's me or you, and frankly, that's never been a choice.” He stopped, flexed his gauntleted hand. “I'm not sure_ when _it started. When I put on the fucking Infinity Gauntlet to save you. But it continues. It continues, and we always end up here, I put it on and remember everything, and do the fucking same thing, because if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's this:_ you can't die _.”_

“ _I'm just a man, Tony,” Steve said, because Tony always simultaneously knew and didn't know it._

_Civil War had proved it well enough._

This _, just here, proved it well enough._

“ _Yeah,” Tony said. “Doesn't change the fact you're special.”_

_He sounded too honest, and Steve wanted to shake him again, make him see how it wasn't true, how it was_ Tony _who was special, not Steve, how Tony had made his own armour, fought on so many Avengers teams even though he was just a human under it, how Tony always got back up and fixed everything –_

_How Tony had destroyed both of them with three short words, “Do it, Stephen,” and Steve wanted to let go and couldn't._

“ _So you see,” Tony continued. “I know how to fix it, now. We've been close. Even I know this. I led you here. I'm sorry. I led you here, and I saved you afterwards, and I destroyed the space-time continuum._

“ _Clearly, the problem is me.”_

“ _No,” Steve said again, suddenly very well aware of what Tony was going to do. “Don't. We can fix it. Please.”_

“ _Didn't you listen to Franklin, Steve?” Tony asked quietly. “We can't. Good bye.”_

“ _No. Tony, don't, we can –”_

Steve woke up with the absolute certainty he was missing something.

Except, everything was right – 

Nothing was – 

Everything was –

_wrong._

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of major character death, Tony Stark. It's me. What did you expect?


End file.
